


a heavy heart to carry

by sapphire2309



Category: White Collar
Genre: Angst, Dark, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-10
Updated: 2016-03-10
Packaged: 2018-05-26 10:38:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6235321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sapphire2309/pseuds/sapphire2309
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Late at night, Sara shows Neal the hardest parts of herself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	a heavy heart to carry

**Author's Note:**

> Dude, I don't even know. Apparently I'm not in a very good mood.  
> For a challenge at writerverse, for the prompt "He says, Only the strong survive, right?"  
> Title's from Heavy In Your Arms by Florence + the Machine.  
>  **Disclaimer:** White Collar is Jeff Eastin's brainchild. Not mine.

Late at night, after the monsters under the bed have claimed their first victims, she shows him the hardest parts of herself. She shows him the steel walls and locks and safes and he inhales in surprise.

She says, "Only the strong survive, right? And flesh is weak. I fixed it." She seems proud.

His lower lip trembles. He whispers, "Darling, who tore your wings from your back? Which cruel destroyer drew back the curtain hiding the world's filth and didn't let you close it?"

She blinks, confused. "I don't know what you're talking about."

He shakes his head sadly. "May I?" He gestures to one of the safes. 

She nods carefully.

His hands deftly slide the dials back and forth. He discovers the code with ease. 

He isn't prepared for what happens when he opens the safe.

Thick black sludge oozes out, slides down the wall of the safe and settles itself in her body. She inhales slightly. He slams the door shut again, spins the dial, but the damage is done. 

Impenetrable metal doors burst open, locks fall apart, safes collapse upon themselves, her body is overtaken by the blackness. She shudders and cries out in pain, but there is no stopping the avalanche of hurt upon hurt, of memories that have haunted her since they were first created, of heartbreak and pain and sorrow.

She has lost so much over the years that she is not much more than a shell of memories, and yet she spent all her days on helping others regain their lost things, and none on giving herself some substance, something more to lose.

(Maybe it's a good thing she didn't try. Maybe she would have lost it all anyway.)

She had nights, though. Nights she spent burying memories till she was not much more than an armour of sharp clothes and sharper heels, with a baton to smash anything that was in her way.

But now it's of no use. It took her years to contain all of them and now they're free.

He watches helplessly as she sobs in anguish.


End file.
